


Five Times Jim Was In Control, and One Time Spock Was

by RowanBaines



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bonding, Bottom Kirk, Bottom Spock, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Public Sex, Spanking, the shameless use of sex to diffuse arguments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowanBaines/pseuds/RowanBaines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim likes to be in control, and that's the way Spock likes it.</p><p>Most of the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Jim Was In Control, and One Time Spock Was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [druxykexy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/druxykexy/gifts).



> Many thanks to [JunoMagic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/JunoMagic/profile) for being such an amazing beta and helping me whip this story into shape! Any remaining errors are all mine.

  **  
**

**1\. The Time In The Dark**

As the pounding footsteps came closer Jim grabbed Spock's arm and yanked him into the darkened room. Quickly but quietly he closed the thick wooden door behind them. He spun around, his cape billowing around him, his eyes frantically searching for an escape.

 

Jim ran to the window and slid it open. But the decorative metal lattice-work outside was welded firmly in place, and it did not budge even when Spock applied his strength.

 

The room boasted a large, four poster bed, a tall wardrobe, and various tables draped with silken runners and blown-glass vases full of exotic flowers, but no personal items. A guest room, Spock surmised.

 

He heard raised voices echoing down the hallway as the men searching for them drew nearer. They were humanoid, closely resembling Terrans, and if Jim had been aware of the extent of their xenophobia he would certainly not have allowed Spock to beam down with him.

 

And had they known that the females of the race were so tactile and free in their exploration of others they would have employed more than a simple hood to conceal Spock's ears. What was done was done, though, and since their communicators had been taken from them they would have to hide until their check-in time elapsed and the _Enterprise_ scanned for their bio-signs to beam them aboard.

 

Jim cursed under his breath as he closed the window and latched it, and he cast a defeated glance around the room. Spock knew that if they did not find somewhere to hide in the next minute they would be caught, and so he strode around the perimeter of the room, his mind working through their very limited options.

 

The bed was low to the ground but it was possible that they might be able to squeeze beneath it. They might also be able to crouch inside the wardrobe, though it would be a tight fit to get both of them in and it would be difficult to keep still enough to be silent. If they split up...

 

Spock stopped.

In the paneling of the wall, just to the right of one of the bedside tables was a break in the carved patterning of the wood, roughly in the shape of a square.

"What is it? Did you find something?" Jim hurried over and began to inspect the paneling.

Spock felt along the edge and then pressed his palm firmly against the square. It moved slightly, and Jim, now crouching at his side, pushed against it as well. With a creak and a bump the square of wood swung away in a puff of dust to reveal a dark crawl-space.

They heard a voice call out just outside the door, and Jim grabbed Spock, shoving him toward the dark entrance. Spock quickly crawled in, reaching out to pull Jim in after him. A moment later he heard the little door click shut and they were plunged into darkness.

The tunnel was long and narrow, and they had to crouch very low to avoid bumping their heads.

"What the hell is this?" Jim whispered.

"This could be storage space or a hiding place. We are fortunate to have stumbled upon it.”

"Shhhh..."

Jim's hand fumbled with Spock's shirt and then fisted in the material, pulling him closer when a faint bang sounded in the direction of the next room over.

"I can't sit up like this. Let's lie down," Jim said near his ear.

Spock let Jim guide him down, and they lay on their sides, chest to chest, their feet toward the small door and their faces just inches apart.

"How long 'till we're supposed to check in?" Jim asked.

"Thirty seven minutes."

"I wish they hadn't smashed the communicators. I don't like–"

" _Jim_ ," Spock admonished.

Jim froze, his hand still tangled in Spock's shirt. They heard someone stomp into the room. The floorboards groaned, and Spock felt a chill go through him as he heard the sound of the wardrobe door being yanked open and then slammed shut. The footsteps came closer. Spock heard a thump nearby and knew the man had dropped to his knee to look under the bed.

Spock leaned toward Jim until their foreheads were touching and let out a shuddering breath. The man was very near the small door and if he noticed anything out of the ordinary they would soon be discovered. Spock hardly dared to breathe as the seconds passed in ominous silence.

They heard another man enter and say something too low for them to understand. A moment later both men left, their voices raised and urgent. When the voices faded Jim let out a loud breath and melted against Spock.

"Well, that was exciting," he chuckled, his breath puffing against Spock's face, "How long now?"

"Thirty four minutes."

"They really didn't like those pointy ears of yours," Jim joked. When Spock gave no reply Jim reached up, feeling along Spock's jaw, and then stroked the curve of an ear up to the tip. "They don't know what they're missing."

"Captain."

"All right, Mister Spock," Jim sighed, "I'll behave."

Both relieved and disappointed, Spock settled his back against the wall, putting a little more space between him and his captain. To Jim's credit he did indeed behave himself for the next ten minutes, lying very straight on his side so that their body contact was minimal and keeping his hands to himself. But the position was uncomfortable for him and he inevitably began to squirm.

When his knee suddenly jerked forward into Spock's leg Jim murmured an apology. For several moments he didn’t move, but then, as Jim tried to adjust his arm so that it was beneath his head, his elbow came up and connected painfully with Spock's cheek.

Spock let out a gasp and Jim immediately lifted his free hand and brushed it over Spock's face, "Sorry! Spock, I'm sorry."

"It would be prudent if you would attempt to remain still," Spock said tightly, his face aching.

"I'm not comfortable, and my arm is cramping," he grumbled. Determined, he added, "Here, turn over. Lie on your back."

Jim lifted himself up so that Spock had room to move. He pulled Spock over onto his back, then settled on top of him with his head on his shoulder.

"Mmm, that's better," Jim said.

Four minutes passed in silence, and Spock found that due to the nearly absolute darkness around them his other senses were heightened. The smell of his human in this warm, confined space was overwhelming. The heady scent of salt and musk, combined with the simmering heat from the man above him, was causing Spock’s shields to slowly disintegrate. When his shields finally collapsed, the resulting flood of lust from Jim washed over him and caused his own desire to build.

He listened to Jim's deep, slow exhalations, and his own breath stuttered as Jim grew hard against him. Spock's reaction was immediate, and he mentally chastised himself for his lack of control but made no effort to halt the release of neurotransmitters or the resulting physiological responses that resulted in his own erection.

They were garbed in the traditional dress of the upper class of this planet’s culture, and the clothes were loose and light, a thin barrier between Spock's hand and his lover's burning skin.

The trousers were made of a thin, satiny material that slid easily over his shaft as he thrust up against Jim. Jim ground down against him in response, lining up their erections and flattening Spock against the floor in his eagerness.

Spock groaned and a moment later Jim's hand clapped over his mouth.

"Shhh. They could be nearby," he whispered.

Jim was pressing the full length of his well-muscled body against Spock's. He kept his hand on Spock's mouth as he began to slide against him, using his weight to produce an almost unbearable friction. Spock reached up one hand to grasp a taut buttock, but his other arm was pinned beneath Jim's elbow, and he found he did not have the strength to pull it free.

He was trembling at the pleasure of Jim's cock sliding hot against his. Their pre-ejaculate wet the silky fabric between them, and he found himself struggling to pull enough air into his lungs as he gasped against Jim's firm hand. He felt trapped, a helpless prisoner, yet he had no desire to escape his captor and arched his body up so hard that Jim slammed him back down roughly in response.

"Shit," Jim hissed at the loud noise.

He did not stop moving, though, pressing his hand down more firmly to muffle Spock's moans and thrusting harder against him.

Spock was soon writhing and hovering on the edge. Jim's body heat  was seeping into him, completely burning away all of his controls and turning him into a panting, shivering mess. With a muffled yell, Spock jerked up as his release spilled from him, a sticky mess into which Jim continued to rut, his thrusts becoming frantic and uneven. Jim dropped his head to nuzzle into Spock's neck, the fingers over Spock's mouth curling and digging in as Jim's voice came out in a low whine.

Jim reached his own orgasm, turning his head to moan into Spock’s shoulder, and Spock gasped a deep breath as the hand over his mouth finally fell away.

Jim went limp, his breath coming quick and hot against Spock, his weight a comforting pressure against Spock's heaving chest. They lay in silence, and it was with satisfaction that Spock noted Jim's sudden ability to remain very still.

His smug sense of pride vanished as he felt their atoms began to dissolve. When he opened his eyes to a very bright light it took him an unforgivable two point six seconds to realize that they were in the transporter room on the _Enterprise_.

Jim's head popped up off his chest. His unflappable captain said with a smile, "Well, that was quick!"

"Aye, Captain, when Leis and Connell heard tell of an _alien_ sighted in the palace they contacted the ship." Scotty informed them, tactfully ignoring the compromising position his superior officers were in.

Jim, grinning, rose up and flung Spock's cape over him, slinging the edge of his own cape over his shoulder to hide the mess they had made of their clothes.

"Good work, Scotty. Have the rest of the landing party been beamed up?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Good." Jim glanced back at Spock, who had climbed shakily to his feet, and then made for the door, "I'm going to get changed out of these clothes and then I'll be on the bridge."

As Jim walked out Spock followed after him, ignoring the faintly amused look on Scotty's face.

****  


**2\. The Time In The Turbolift**

 

"Captain, it is my opinion that you behaved irresponsibly on this mission," Spock said.

They were walking away from sickbay, where Jim had just been treated by Doctor McCoy for multiple abrasions and bruised ribs. Spock found himself staring at the small, freshly-healed wound just above Jim’s right eye as they walked.

"Excuse me?" Jim stopped, turning to Spock.

"I understand that the Tarnerans are a warrior culture, but Leath-ri Ahnsal would not have thought less of you for refusing to undergo the ritual since he expressed interest and respect for other cultures and their customs."

"And I wanted to show him that I respect _his_ culture and customs," Jim argued.

"As Captain, you should not have taken such a risk."

"There was very little risk. I knew I could handle it and I did. I'm fine, and thanks to me the Tarnerans are open to further negotiations with the Federation, which is important if we're going to eventually establish a base there. I think I made the right decision."

"The blow you received to the head could have—"

"Enough. This discussion is over," Jim snapped, rubbing his temple. He caught himself making the gesture and dropped his hand, turning to walk to the turbolift.

Spock followed, brooding. Jim's handling of the situation had garnered him respect among the Tarneran people, but his actions had not been strictly necessary. His opponent had not been significantly larger or stronger than him, but the Tarneran man had been a trained warrior, and he had managed to inflict enough damage on Jim during the brief battle ritual that Spock would have felt the need to intervene if it had gone on even a minute longer.

It was fortunate that he had suffered no broken bones, though he was badly bruised in places, and Spock had readily allied with McCoy when the Doctor confronted Jim about his reckless behavior. Although Jim had not been in serious danger, he had caused himself needless injury.

He felt the irrational need to make sure that Jim knew he was displeased with him, but he squashed the impulse and continued to walk silently behind him. If Jim did not wish to communicate with him, then Spock would not press the matter, but that did not mean that he thought Jim was right.

Jim looked back at him once, then twice, and when they stepped into the turbolift he crossed his arms over his chest and stared pointedly at him. Spock knew Jim meant for him to notice and acknowledge him, but he stood facing the doors, his hands clasped behind his back and his face carefully blank.

"You're pouting," Jim said.

"You are mistaken," Spock said, his features hardening and his eyes growing cold.

The sudden movement as Jim stopped the turbolift and then turned to face him startled Spock. His eyes darted to Jim and then nervously away before he could stop himself.

"Spock. Look at me," Jim demanded.

Spock would not admit to the pleasure he got from defying Jim in this moment. He let his cool anger build, refusing to be melted by his fiery captain. Too often Jim made Spock feel weak in the face of his raging human passion, so it was immensely satisfying when Jim huffed out a sigh and slumped in apparent defeat.

Spock was on the verge of demanding that Jim restart the lift when strong hands grabbed his shoulders and shoved him back against the wall. He gasped as Jim's body pressed up against his, pinning him in place. He should have been able to push him away. He was strong enough to do so, but Jim's hazel eyes were burning into his and he could not move.

Jim's body was hard and so hot that it set Spock ablaze, and he sighed as he burned. His anger was slowly transforming into something else, something fiery and urgent.

"You're angry with me," Jim said.

Spock started to turn his head away, but Jim caught his chin and forced him to face forward, his grip firm.

"Are you angry?" Jim asked, lips curling in an almost feral smile.

Spock's heart was pounding. It took great effort to speak.

"No."

Jim leaned forward, tilting his head up so that their cheeks brushed as he nuzzled into Spock's ear and bit down on the tender earlobe. He suckled it for a moment and then let it go, breathing hard.

"Liar," he said.

Spock felt a tremor go through him, rippling out from the point on his throat where Jim was now hungrily kissing him. The sensation it caused coursed through every part of him in electric waves. It wasn't until Jim began to slide down to floor that Spock came back to himself and remembered where they were.

"Captain, someone may—ah!—require use of the lift," Spock managed to get out.

"Then we'd better hurry," Jim said as he rubbed his cheek against Spock's erection through the fabric of his pants.

Spock leaned forward and started to push Jim away by his shoulders, panicking. "Captain, we really should not—"

“Don’t move!” Jim said in a voice that compelled Spock to obey. Jim reached up and shoved against Spock so that he was pressed against the wall again, and Spock let his hands fall limp at his sides.

For a moment Spock wondered at Jim's ability to give by taking. He marveled at Jim’s intuitive grasp on just how far and how hard he could push Spock until the Vulcan was teetering just on the edge of his limits, but then Jim's hands unfastened Spock’s pants and stroked the needy length of him, obliterating all thought.

The universe collapsed around him and there were no glittering, unexplored star systems, no turbolift,  no _Enterprise_ , nothing but Jim's touch, a blazing golden light in the sudden void around him.

When Jim's mouth closed around him, so wet and impossibly hot, Spock whimpered out a plea in Vulcan for Jim to stop. Then, shaking with need, he begged him to never stop, to devour his very spirit so that they would never be parted.

When Jim's tongue swirled in slow circles around him, lips sucking ravenously at his slick shaft, Spock let his head fall back with a thud and released a rumbling groan from deep within himself.

He wanted more, but when he began to thrust into the exquisite heat of Jim's mouth, Jim roughly shoved him back again, slamming his hips against the wall of the turbolift before moving his hand to stroke the base of Spock's cock.

"Jim! Please!" Spock gasped.

The urge to push Jim away was nearly as strong as the urge to plunge himself deeper into that eager mouth. Spock felt as though he was losing himself completely in pleasure and scrambled madly for something to anchor him and keep him steady.

He caught Jim by the hair, feeling as though he was falling from a great height, and let out a loud moan as he came.

Jim swallowed around his pulsing cock, licking him clean after he released him. Jim grinned up at Spock. He tucked Spock’s now limp cock back into his underwear and refastened the pants, stood up, and then gently smoothed Spock's hair.

"Are you angry with me?" he asked, looking as if he already knew the answer.

"No," Spock managed after a few deep breaths.

"Good," Jim wiped his mouth with his sleeve and restarted the lift. "I'm sorry if my actions upset you. I'll be more careful in the future."

Spock gaped openly at him, but a moment later the turbolift doors opened and Spock snapped his mouth shut as Jim turned to him.

"You might want to," Jim floundered for a moment, waving a hand vaguely in the air, "take care of the security footage."

"Yes sir," Spock said, giving Jim a sharp nod and hurrying past him to walk to his station.

It was fortunate that he had already reached his chair when his knees gave out, and he sat down hard, unable to stop the breath that rushed out of him in a sigh.

He refused to turn around and see the smug look Jim was most certainly giving him.

****  


**3\. The Time Against The Wall**

 

Spock tugged at his dress uniform, pulling it straight, and then left the quiet corner he had been standing in. For all of Jim's professed dislike of these diplomatic functions, he was skilled at adapting his behavior to suit alien customs and effortlessly navigated the realm of polite social interactions.

Spock knew Jim would rather be navigating an asteroid field, but the captain carried himself with a quiet strength and easy dignity that was obviously appreciated by the Aurmauran ambassador who currently held his attention.

Spock allowed himself to feel just the briefest flare of jealousy before tightening his controls and moving toward one of the long tables laden with refreshments of every type. Everything had been scanned and determined safe for consumption, so Spock indulged in a little spontaneity, picking up a crystal glass and filling it from a pitcher simply because he liked the color of the beverage.

It was illogical to make a beverage selection based on color, and Spock wondered if the thick, sweet Aurmauran incense that filled the air was clouding his thought processes. He did feel somewhat disconnected from the room around him.

The drink was a deep, ruby red, a color he had always been fond of. It brought to mind the burning sands of Vulcan, molten rock, skies afire with dying light, and... human blood. Spock startled at this morbid thought but quickly collected himself and took a small sip of his drink. It was so syrupy sweet that he should have found it unpalatable, but the stinging aftertaste of some exotic spice made his mouth water for more.

He drank again, deeply. When the glass was drained it occurred to him that he should set it down and seek out his captain, but his mind was pleasantly buzzing and his tongue craved more of the spicy-sweet drink, so he filled his glass and then wandered back out into the chattering crowd.

He walked the room until he found a place to stand near where the musicians were playing. With his back to the wall he watched Aurmaurans and a collection of visiting aliens from different worlds spin and wind around each other in the area set apart for dancing.

The visiting alien dignitaries mingled, each awkwardly trying to match the pace of another, but wherever two Aurmaurans danced together Spock beheld a graceful choreography of sensuous and writhing beauty. Their movements were as feline as their appearance, and they pushed and pulled at each other, melting together and away again to the deep, wistful music.

The musician who led the small ensemble bowed a large stringed instrument, which produced rich, vibrating notes that reminded Spock of a Terran cello. The rhythmic, undulating sounds seemed to reverberate inside of him, striking against his body and creating an echo of music entirely his own.

In that moment, with a strange alien melody throbbing around and inside of him, Spock realized he was most certainly intoxicated.

Again he had the thought that he should seek out his captain, find his Jim, but his limbs felt heavy and he was not sure he could make it across the room to where Jim was still in conversation with the ambassador. He knew that Jim would come to him immediately if he signaled him, and he took comfort in this thought as he settled back against the wall and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Excuse me," came a warm male voice.

Spock opened his eyes and found himself face to face with a very handsome Aurmauran man.

"I do not mean to intrude, but are you all right?" the man asked.

Spock stood up straighter to answer, "I am well, thank you."

The Aurmauran smiled, revealing his sharp canine teeth, and his yellow eyes glittered with interest, the narrow pupils becoming thin black slits. "I am Prince Aurvat of Esaat, and I welcome you to Aurmaura."

"I am Spock," Spock carefully articulated, pulling the proper words from the fog in his brain, "and I am honored to be your guest."

Prince Aurvat dipped his head, and Spock returned the gesture, subtly examining the Aurmauran man. The Aurmaurans were humanoid but had many feline characteristics, and though they did not have fur they were very hirsute. Prince Aurvat's dark hair swirled above the low collar of his intricately embroidered dress shirt and spread down over his arms, which were partially visible through the slit sleeves.

It occurred to Spock a moment later that he might not have been as subtle in his observation as he had intended, because when he looked up Prince Aurvat's mouth was quirked in a sly smile.

Spock's eyes darted around the room and found Jim just as Jim dropped his gaze from Spock and turned to say something to the ambassador at his side. They spoke for a moment and then both looked up at Spock before falling into conversation again.

Spock sipped his drink as Prince Aurvat began to speak to him of Aurmaura's current political climate, his purring voice lulling Spock into an almost trance-like state. He was just thinking to himself that he wished the lights were brighter—and therefore more conducive to wakefulness—when Prince Aurvat reached out a long-fingered hand and stroked his arm. Spock looked down at the hand, awash in confusion, but by the time he thought to move away the hand dropped and the Prince was smiling warmly at him.

"What do you think?" the Prince asked.

Spock struggled to recall what Prince Aurvat had been saying and then, remembering that it had been something about the benefits of cultural exchange, said, "I agree."

This seemed to be the right thing to say because the Prince smiled again and moved closer.

"I'm glad," Prince Aurvat purred, and then he tugged loose a small flower that was pinned on his shirt, "Would you honor me by accepting this token?"

A small wisp of yellow ribbon the same color as Aurvat's silk shirt dangled from the stem and the sharp pin seemed to glint almost menacingly. Spock scolded himself for such fanciful thoughts and then realized that Prince Aurvat was still waiting for his answer, so he nodded an affirmative and allowed the Prince to attach the flower to his uniform.

Spock was becoming uncomfortable, though, and knew that in his compromised state he was missing something important. He looked up at Jim for support but saw only Jim's retreating back as he left the Great Hall through one of the high, arched doorways. Feeling a moment of anxiety he staggered forward and would have fallen had Prince Aurvat not caught and steadied him.

"Are you sure you're all right?" the Prince asked.

"I am... I do feel dizzy," Spock admitted.

"Come out onto the balcony with me. The night air will restore you," Prince Aurvat said, taking Spock's arm and leading him across the room toward the open doors that led to the balcony.

The night air was cool and blew over Spock in a refreshing blast that cleared away some of the haze in his mind. He still felt unsteady, but his tongue no longer felt thick in his mouth and his vision seemed clearer as they walked out and then strolled along the length of the large balcony. Spock stopped, set down his drink, and pressed his hands to the cool stone balustrade, leaning forward a little as he took in the twinkling lights of the city.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Prince Aurvat said, his eyes never leaving Spock.

"It is," Spock agreed. "I would be amenable to viewing it in the light of day."

Prince Aurvat made a dismissive noise, "We Aurmaurans are nocturnal creatures. Daylight is good for napping and for the sleepy contemplation of all that comes to pass during the night."

"I see."

"Do you? I would be happy to show it to you. All of it," the Prince waved his arm in a gesture encompassing the landscape in front of them, "no matter the time of day. I would like to keep you here and explore my home world with you, see it through new eyes."

Prince Aurvat moved closer and slid his arm around Spock's waist, leaning his face close to Spock's. Still confused and drowsy, it took Spock a moment to respond and move away, though he did not go far for fear of offending the Prince. He had obviously given the Prince reason to believe his advances were desired and so he would have to diffuse the situation carefully.

"It is my desire to add to my knowledge by exploring that which is new to me, but I could not remain away from the _Enterprise_ for long," Spock said.

"The _Enterprise_ , your ship," the Prince raised an incredulous eyebrow and shrugged. "Surely that must become boring after a time. Do you not long for more?”

"No. I do not." Spock knew that his reply was curt but found himself inexplicably offended by the Prince's casual dismissal of the ship that had become his home.

"Perhaps that is because you do not know what you are missing," Prince Aurvat said, ignoring Spock's cool tone.

"Perhaps," Spock said and could not stop himself from adding, "though I doubt it."

Prince Aurvat raised both eyebrows but moved closer, undeterred. Spock turned from the beautiful view and faced the Prince, not wanting to draw the situation out any longer. His vision was beginning to swim again, and he did not trust himself to make responsible choices.

"If you will excuse me, I must go find my captain," he said, turning toward the doors.

"Yes, of course. I will go in with you."

Spock did not resist when the Prince took his arm and led him back into the Hall, and when the Prince released him and quickly departed with a brief farewell he was relieved. When he looked around the large room, though, he realized that Prince Aurvat had spotted Jim first and was headed over to him, looking grave and predatory.

Spock followed, barely managing to keep himself from breaking into a run, and when he reached the two men Jim was scowling and Prince Aurvat was smirking as he took a step back.

Spock was close enough to hear Prince Aurvat whisper, "I believe your people have a saying: all is fair in love and war."

With that the Prince stalked off, looking haughty and self-satisfied.

"Captain," Spock started, coming to stand at Jim's side.

He did not get a chance to finish speaking because Jim turned and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him toward one of the Hall's exits. Jim's fingers dug into his arm and his face was stony as he dragged Spock through an archway and into a long corridor, his footsteps falling heavy and echoing around them.

Curtained alcoves were carved into the wall on their right, with bench seating beneath large windows overlooking the city of Mishau, and it was into one of these alcoves that Jim finally pulled Spock. Jim pushed Spock toward the window, and the Vulcan collapsed onto the low bench as dizziness overwhelmed him. He watched in confusion as Jim pulled the curtain closed and then whirled around to glare at him.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Spock?" Jim asked, eyes flashing.

The dizziness abated somewhat but Spock still did not know how to respond to Jim's anger and so he shook his head and simply said "No."

"No? Nothing?" Jim grabbed him and yanked him to his feet, then pulled off the flower pinned to his chest. "What's this?"

Spock had forgotten about it and gave Jim a baffled look. "Prince Aurvat gave it to me."

"And you accepted it." Jim looked positively grim.

Spock found that he could not seem to form a proper response because he was not sure what he was supposed to say. Prince Aurvat had been clear about his intentions, but Spock had not done anything to warrant Jim's anger—not that he could remember—and he felt himself grow desperate as he struggled to make sense of the situation. It was apparent that he was still a little intoxicated.

Perhaps more than a little.

"Jim, I—" Spock stumbled forward and caught Jim by the shirt to steady himself. "Please!"

It was all he could think to say. The plea affected Jim more than he expected, though, and for a moment Jim merely examined him closely before his eyes widened in surprise.

"Spock, are you drunk?" he asked.

"I believe that perhaps—" Spock started, then shook his head, "If I am not mistaken, it is—" Spock took a deep breath. "Yes."

Jim peeled Spock's hand from his shirt and gave him a gentle push as he took a step back, leaving Spock swaying unsteadily. "Unbelievable. You lectured me not a month ago about, what was it, the dangers of indulging in intoxicating substances while on a mission?"

"I assure you, it was not my intention to compromise myself," Spock said.

"Was it your intention to give yourself to an Aurmauran prince?" Jim asked, the mild amusement that had been in his voice a moment before fading as fire flared in his eyes again.

"I did not..." Spock started, but he felt his stomach begin to churn.

"You accepted his token, didn't you? Maybe we should go to him right now, and I’ll let him know that I concede defeat." Jim took Spock’s arm and moved as if to take a step toward the curtain.

"No!" Spock lurched away from him, backing up against the wall.

His mind whirled as he attempted to recall everything he had read on Aurmauran culture and in a moment of horror he did recall a brief paragraph under the heading of 'mating rituals' in which the giving of ‘tokens’ was mentioned. He had accepted the flower from Prince Aurvat, and his drunken mind had not noted the Prince's use of the word 'token'.

Of course it would never occur to Jim that Spock could make such a mistake, even while intoxicated.

"I have made a terrible error," Spock said, his voice thick. "Please, forgive me."

Jim's body relaxed, but his eyes were still sharp and blazing with emotion that cut straight through Spock and left him feeling powerless. He felt naked as those eyes traveled over his body, and he found himself trembling slightly in anticipation as Jim bit his bottom lip and then met Spock's gaze.

Jim tossed the token onto the wooden bench beneath the window and then crushed himself against Spock, kissing him. He broke away and gasped out "You..." and then pressed their lips together so hard that Spock tasted blood. And something like wine. Apparently Jim had also consumed some of the Aurmauran refreshments.

When Jim pulled back again, his eyes were solemn. "Oh, Spock. I thought..."

Jim couldn't finish the thought, though, and kissed him again, deeply, grinding their hips together and wrapping his arms around Spock. He squeezed so tight that it was painful, but still Spock regretted it when those arms released him.

Jim pulled out a small foil packet that had been tucked in the waistband of his pants and Spock arched an eyebrow when he recognized it as lubricant.

"Jim, where did you get that?"

"From my bag. I went back to our room to sulk while you were... busy. I didn’t have it in me to sulk for very long, though."

"Could we not go back to the room now?" Spock asked.

"No," Jim pushed himself back up against Spock and gently bit the sensitive skin of his throat. "I'm going to take you right here, and then we're going to go back into the Main Hall so he can smell me on you,” Jim bit him again, this time sucking at the bite mark, “so that he’ll know you are _mine_."

Spock's heart fluttered, and his skin began to heat as Jim reached down and opened Spock's pants, sliding them and his briefs down enough to expose him. Spock sighed as Jim stroked him, his eyes fluttering closed. When he started to sway precariously Jim turned him around and pushed him against the wall, kicking his feet apart and pulling Spock's hips toward him.

Spock braced himself against the wall, pressing his forehead into the smooth stone, and he involuntarily clenched when a slick finger pushed into him. He was just beginning to relax when he felt Jim lean forward.

"Do you like him, the Prince?" Jim asked in a heated voice.

"No," Spock quickly answered.

Another finger joined the first, pushing deeper and bumping Spock's prostate, making him jerk his hips back toward Jim. Jim had his free hand firmly clutching Spock's hip, though, and he pushed him forward again, holding him still.

"Did you like it when he touched you?"

"No." Spock's voice was firm despite the shivers running through him.

The fingers moved faster in him, applying more pressure, and the moan Spock tried to stifle came out a grunt.

"Do you _want_ him?"

"No! Jim," Spock gasped. "Only you."

"Good," Jim said.

The fingers inside him were pulled away and moment later Spock felt Jim's slick length ease into him.

The intense pressure of Jim filling him up overwhelmed Spock, as it always did, and he was grateful that Jim gave him a few long moments to adjust to the sensation. The moments passed, though, and then Jim was moving, pulling out and slamming back in with unrestrained need.

When each hard thrust began to draw a small sound from Spock he felt Jim lean forward over his back and heard the hiss in his ear, "Shhhh..."

Soon Jim, too, was biting down on cries of pleasure as his hips kept up the punishing rhythm. Jim was claiming Spock, marking him with his nails and the bruising pressure of his fingertips, and Spock surrendered completely to the onslaught of searing pleasure.

Spock wanted to turn and face Jim, to pull off their clothes and ride him hard on the carpeted floor of their dark alcove, but he was pinned to wall by Jim's will, by his heated desire.

Jim's movements were becoming frenzied and Spock knew he was close, his own hunger having already worked him up into a breathless passion. When Jim reached around and took Spock in hand, his orgasm tore through him with shattering force, his legs shaking as he tried to hold himself up against the relentless pounding driving him forward.

He would have collapsed if not for the heavy grip of Jim's hands, and Jim soon found his own release, his hips snapping forward in short, jerking movements as he came. Jim fell against Spock's back, and after a minute he slid out of Spock sank to the floor, pulling Spock down with him.

Spock leaned into Jim's chest and let out a shaky sigh as Jim's arms wrapped around him. They heard voices down the corridor but neither of them moved, too perfectly sated to care about anything but the warmth of being in each other's arms.

After several quiet minutes passed Jim pressed a kiss to Spock's head and then reluctantly got to his feet, urging Spock up as well. When they had made themselves presentable, straightening their uniforms and smoothing each other’s hair, their eyes met, and they stood still, radiating contentment.

For some time now Spock had wished to join their minds, to bond them so that they would belong completely to each other, but he did not know if Jim would want that. It had comforted to hear Jim declare that Spock belonged to him.

“We should get back,” Jim finally said.

Spock nodded and was about to turn to the curtain when he realized Jim had become distracted and was looking down at his shirt. Jim turned the hem of his shirt out, finding some loose strings and tugging them until the edge began to fray.

"Jim, what are you doing?"

"All's fair in love and war," Jim muttered.

His fingers kept working at the material and finally he gave the fabric a strong tug and a narrow, tattered piece pulled away. He retrieved the token from the bench and untied the yellow ribbon, tossing it to floor, and wrapped the green fabric from his dress shirt around the flower, tying it off so that it was secure. He held up the token, admiring his handiwork, and then attached it to Spock's shirt.

"All right, let's go." He smirked.

Spock followed him out of the alcove, staying close to his side.

****  


**4\. The Time At The Theater**

 

Jim frowned slightly as the tall Urg'elli man led them to their box after much bowing and scraping. The man led them toward the main auditorium, veering suddenly to the right and going up a long staircase, and on the second landing he went through a door that led into a narrow hallway. They passed several doors marked with alien script in metallic gold paint, then the Urg’elli stopped at a door, opened it, and stepped back with a low bow, antennae twitching.

Jim walked in and Spock followed after him, nodding politely at the usher and feeling relieved when the door closed behind them. The people of Urg'ell were friendly, but Spock agreed with Jim that their intense behavior and watchful, beady eyes could be somewhat unnerving.

The box contained four seats, high-backed, armless, upholstered in a darkly iridescent fabric. Jim sighed as he sank into one of the front two.

Spock sat next to Jim, ignoring his obvious displeasure, and examined their surroundings. The interior of Urg'elli's famed V'Seirel Theater was painted matte black with metallic gold designs adorning the molding and spreading across the ceiling in an intricate fractal pattern.

Spock found it aesthetically pleasing and was glad he had come, but he regretted having dragged Jim along with him. Due to their impending departure, they would have been justified in turning down Councillor Elec's invitation, but Spock had been genuinely interested in seeing the performance and had thought Jim might enjoy it as well. He had not taken into account Jim's desire to get back to the ship to prepare for their next mission.

They sat in silence, Jim's arms crossed over his chest and his foot lightly tapping the leg of his chair, until Councillor Elec finally joined them.

Jim and Spock stood, giving the appropriate bow, and then Councillor Elec settled into the seat behind Jim, clasping his long, blue-green fingers together as he looked down at the arena and then at the currently quiet stage with obvious interest.

"My companion was unable to join me tonight, so I'm afraid it will just be us," Councillor Elec said apologetically, his voice clicking and snapping in the peculiar way of his species. "I do hope you enjoy the performance."

"I am sure we will, Councillor," Spock said politely, turning in his seat.

"Please, call me Elec."

"Elec," Spock nodded, "my captain and I have heard of the talent of Urg'ell artists and are pleased to be given the opportunity to see them perform."

Spock glanced at Jim, who snapped out of his reverie. Jim turned to Elec, "Yes, thank you for inviting us."

"My pleasure."

Elec then began to describe the history of the theater, regaling them with tales of sabotage, intrigue, and even a very strange account of a bioluminescent alien entity that loitered about backstage for a time and was initially thought to be a restless spirit. Jim chuckled at that and Spock was glad to see his mood improve.

When the lights began to dim the chattering and snapping that had been white noise a moment before faded out until the theater was silent.

The viewing area from their box started at the height of their shoulders when they were seated, but since the performance was primarily an aerial dance they didn't need a clear view of the stage below. Spock did lean forward, though, to peer down at the orchestra pit when the musicians began to play a very unusual, complex piece of music.

The dark, glassy backdrop began to pulse with deep, rich colors as the first of the performers dropped into view, rolling their slender bodies in the fabric that stretched down from the ceiling and fell in rippling waves beneath them. As they began to twist and spin themselves in a perfectly synchronized dance Spock glanced at Jim and was pleased to see that he had leaned forward a little, engrossed by the show.

Spock began to discern a story being told, the characters making themselves known with brief solo dances of startling skill, spinning, falling, and swinging into elegant poses.

Spock soon realized that he was watching a love story, and resisted the urge to reach out to Jim in what would be an unseemly emotional display in public. The story was a tragedy, and when it ended with a lithe Urg'elli dancer spinning wildly from her scarlet ribbon and then going limp Spock felt the stirrings of a deep emotion and had to clamp down his controls to subdue it.

When he was certain of himself he looked at Jim and as the theater lights grew brighter they smiled at each other, Jim with his whole face and Spock with just his eyes.

"What do you think?" Elec asked, standing and stretching his long legs.

Spock stood as well, followed by Jim, and Jim spoke first, "That was amazing, and not at all what I was expecting."

Before Elec could start wondering what it was Jim had been expecting Spock said, "It was a very enjoyable experience. The dancers are very skilled."

"They are. They are, indeed," Elec said, looking pleased. "They train for many years, some of them their whole lives to become this proficient. We are very proud of them."

"As you should be," Jim said, smiling brightly.

Spock noted—and certainly not for the first time—that no one seemed to be immune to his captain’s warm smiles, regardless of species or sex. Elec seemed almost flustered for a moment, letting out a tittering sound that Spock knew was the Urg'elli way of expressing delight.

"Well, this is the intermission," Elec said, becoming distracted by something, or someone, across the auditorium, "so, if you will excuse me, I will return before the next act."

Elec left quickly, and Jim gave Spock an amused look before picking up one of the folded programs, "The next act? I thought that ending was pretty final," he mused.

"In Urg'elli theater it is common to have multiple loosely connected storylines in one show," Spock explained.

"Great. That sounds interesting," Jim said, though his tone seemed to indicate that he was unsure. Spock hoped Jim would like the next act as much as he had the first.

"Do you require anything, Jim? Shall I get us refreshments?" Spock asked.

"No, I'm fine, but I wouldn't mind a stroll around the theater to stretch my legs," he said.

They were both in dressy but comfortable civilian attire, something that always helped to relax their behavior, so Spock was not surprised when Jim linked their arms together as they walked down the hall to the staircase. They descended the stairs, and Jim steered them past a concession booth to a small gallery where numerous works of Urg'elli art were on display.

The Urg'elli seemed to have a fondness for tragic themes and dramatic uses of color, and Spock found himself enthralled by the scenes depicted in swirling paints and in twisting sculptures. Some of the works were quite erotic, and Spock paused in front of an abstract painting of two lovers embracing, the slashes of red reminding him of the dancer dangling from her scarlet ribbon.

"Beautiful," Jim said.

Spock turned to tell Jim that, while was interesting, it was not what he would term as beautiful, but then he realized Jim was not talking about painting. Jim was watching him with open admiration, his golden eyes shining with affection.

"You look beautiful tonight. Have I told you that?" he said, stepping closer to Spock.

"No," Spock was forced to admit. Jim had been somewhat sullen for most of the evening and had not spoken much at all.

"Well, I'm telling you now. You look beautiful."

Spock shifted uncomfortably, "Jim."

"All right, I'll stop embarrassing you with my human emotionalism," Jim said with a smile, then gave Spock's sleeve a tug, "I'm glad you wore this."

Spock had chosen to wear a lavender tunic with a black, velvety Vulcan robe over it, knowing that Jim was fond of this outfit and would be pleased to see him wear it. Now that Jim was acknowledging his choice, Spock found that he did feel somewhat embarrassed and desired to change the subject.

"Perhaps we should return to our seats now," Spock suggested.

"Yes. Sure," Jim said.

Jim seemed to deflate a little and as he started to turn away Spock offered him two fingers, aware that Jim knew what the gesture meant. Jim's eyes widened and then brightened as he raised his hand and pressed two fingers to Spock's. Spock might not be capable of effusive expressions of emotion, but he could offer Jim this, and judging by Jim's warm expression it was enough.

They made their way back to their box in silence, and though Jim did not take Spock's arm again he seemed happier, his step lighter.

When they got to their box Elec was still gone, and when the chime signaling the end of the intermission sounded and he had still not returned they took their seats.

"I think someone's getting lucky tonight," Jim said with a mischievous grin.

"What do you mean?" Spock asked, almost cautiously.

"Look," Jim nodded his head and Spock followed his gaze to a box across from and slightly farther back than theirs. Spock recognized Elec and understood what Jim meant by 'lucky' when he saw the attractive Urg'elli woman sitting next to him, whispering something that was apparently very interesting in his ear.

"Ah. I see," Spock said, his face neutral.

"I guess it's just us now," Jim said. He turned, leaning toward Spock, "You know—"

The lights began to dim and Jim fell silent, giving Spock a rather mysterious look before turning to face the stage. Spock felt an unaccountable shiver run through him and wondered if he should have brought a coat.

The music started and Spock was once again caught up in the show. The music was slower this time, more melancholy, and Spock found himself fascinated when an Urg'elli woman was lowered on a net of twisted fabric and began to sing. Two performers dropped into view and began a slow and sensuous dance, their ribbons intertwining and then coming apart, their long limbs meeting and caressing and then pulling away again.

Spock's breathing quickened as he became keenly aware of Jim's presence next to him, and as the dancer's lean bodies came together in a tangle of ribbon he felt himself becoming aroused.

Spock tried to moderate his breathing, hoping that Jim would not notice, but then Jim was leaning into him, eyes gleaming as he pressed a kiss to Spock's throat.

"Jim. They can see us," Spock said, his eyes darting out over the pale faces that could be seen in the depths of the other boxes.

Jim sat back, looking thoroughly chastised, and Spock returned his attention to the performance, but then he felt Jim's hand on his knee. He turned to glare at him, but Jim only smiled.

"They can't see what my hands are doing," he said reasonably.

Spock turned back to the stage and tried to focus on story that was unfolding, but he was distracted by the pressure of Jim's hand on his knee. When Jim's hand began to slide up his leg he sat up straighter and then looked at Jim.

"Jim," he said, trying to make his voice stern.

Jim ignored him though, his hand continuing to move up Spock's leg and then sliding between his thighs, finally coming to rest over the erection that was now straining against his pants.

"James T. Kirk!" Spock said, his voice nearly a hiss.

Jim grinned impishly at that, and Spock made a mental note to never again use that appellation when his intent was to express disapproval.

"It's all right. They wont see," Jim leaned over to whisper. "Stay still. Relax."

Spock felt a moment of panic as Jim's fingers slid beneath the robe and worked his pants open, but then Jim's hand was stroking him, so warm and strong that it trapped him within his own lust.

Jim's fingers skillfully worked him, every movement forcefully stoking Spock's fires until the spinning performers became a blur and the eerie music faded beneath the thrumming of his heart.

He found his breath again for a moment and whispered a pleading "Don't..." but he did not move away, and when he finally allowed his shields to slip he was rewarded by a surge of boundless love that flowed back and forth between himself and the man he held most dear.

He knew Jim felt it as intensely as he did when he tilted his head enough to gaze at Jim and found those hazel eyes gleaming hungrily at him in the low light.

Spock's mouth fell open, and he breathily mouthed Jim's name as something in him grew precariously tight, a searing pleasure that threatened to dissolve him completely. When Spock's breath hitched and his body went taut Jim pumped him more urgently, his own breathing now deep and rough as he watched his lover's face.

When his orgasm rocketed through him, Spock slammed his head back against his seat and squeezed his eyes shut, his body quaking and his hips involuntarily lifting.

As the last of the shockwaves coursed through him Spock sank into his chair, his posture still straight but his muscles relaxed.

"Sorry about the robe." Jim said, though he did not seem particularly apologetic. "It's only on the inside, though."

Spock tried to raise an eyebrow at him but succeeded only in widening his eyes a little before his face went slack again. Jim chuckled and then leaned close, breathing softly against Spock's ear.

"I love you," he said.

Spock felt a radiant joy flow through him as he turned to Jim.

" _Taluhk nash-veh k'dular_."

****  


**5\. The Time On The Table**

 

Spock was in his quarters when Uhura patched the call in from Jim. Jim was already down on the planet for their shore leave, having beamed down early for once in his eagerness to prepare for the first leave they would be spending entirely alone with each other.

"Spock, what's the holdup?" Jim's voice crackled over the intercom.

"One of the experiments I have been overseeing is nearing its end and I wish to be here for its completion." Spock explained.

"Should I even ask?"

"Though the science involved is not above your comprehension I doubt you would find it a compelling topic for conversation."

"Very diplomatic, Spock." Jim's smile was evident in his voice. "All right, I'll let you get back to your laboratory. Just don't be too long, okay?"

"I estimate that it will take no more than an hour."

"Good. I was thinking we could go down to the lake after dinner. You know, watch the sunset."

"If that is what you wish," Spock said, "That is what we shall do."

"I'll see you later," Jim said.

Spock terminated the connection, packed a few more items in his travel case, and then left for the lab. Exactly one hour and six minutes later Spock was on his way back to his quarters when Uhura approached him in the corridor, looking distressed.

"Mister Spock, there you are." Uhura said, wringing her hands. "I wondered if you could help me."

"What is the problem, Lieutenant?"

Uhura began walking and Spock followed her as she began to explain, "I've been having some problems at my station recently—nothing big at first, just little glitches—then some of the switches stopped executing the proper commands, and just now one of the monitors started displaying gobbledygook."

"Gobbledygook?" Spock quirked an eyebrow.

"I couldn't make heads or tails of it. It wasn't in any language I've encountered. Will you come take a look?"

Spock hesitated, thinking of Jim waiting for him and resolved to send him a communication explaining the delay. It was possible the ship's computer was infected with a virus and if that was the case he should stay until the problem was resolved.

Spock's theory was correct and, after sending Jim a brief message about the new delay, he set to work immediately. It was some time before he was satisfied that he had managed to locate and quarantine all infected files and repair any damage done. Crewmen from other departments reported minor issues and Spock attended to those as well before going back to his quarters. Nearly three hours had elapsed by the time he finally beamed down to the Grand Lake Welcome Center.

The smiling concierge greeted Spock and pointed him in the direction of his cabin after Spock assured the man he did not need a guide. It was dark outside, the clear black sky spattered with stars, and Spock began to name them in his head as he walked up the gravel path toward the cabin.

He passed two other cabins, one brightly lit and the other dark, and walked down a small hill to a more isolated cabin that sat facing the lake. There didn’t seem to be any lights on, but Spock was sure this was the cabin the concierge had pointed out and as he came around to the front he saw one of the windows glowing with light.

He walked up the four steps that led to the uncovered porch and then went to the door, opening it and stepping in.

The first thing he noticed was a circular table topped with a candle that had nearly burned out, the source of the flickering light. On the table were also two wine glasses, one of which had obviously contained wine recently, plates, and a couple of covered dishes that were giving off an appetizing aroma. Spock could make out the scent of Portobello mushrooms and parmesan, as well as some Vulcan spices, and he realized that he was hungry.

Feeling his heart sink, Spock turned to the living area to see Jim sprawled on a stiff looking couch, one arm thrown over his eyes. Spock went to the couch, then dropped down next to Jim and gently shook his shoulder.

"Jim, wake up," he said softly.

Jim moved his arm, stretched, and then blinked at Spock in confusion for a few seconds. Then his face grew dark, and he sat up, scooting away from Spock.

"Spock," was all he said, his voice flat.

"I apologize for being late," Spock said. He set his travel bag on the coffee table and sat next to Jim on the couch, but Jim stood up, stretching again, and went into the kitchen area.

"It's fine. I watched the sunset by myself," Jim said, picking up the wine glass and refilling it. He leaned back against the counter and added, "It was stunning."

"I was not aware that you planned to cook for me," Spock said apologetically.

"Yeah, well... if you're hungry you can reheat a plate. I think I'll go to bed."

Jim had spoken calmly, but as he sipped from the glass Spock could see his anger in every tense line of his body, and in the turbulent depths of his eyes. He hated that Jim was upset, and hated even more that he was the cause of it.

"I am sorry, Jim," Spock said, going into the kitchen to stand in front of him.

"It's not a big deal. Don't worry about it," Jim said, sounding less angry and more despondent.

Spock found himself feeling much worse, and felt the need to explain himself, to make Jim understand that it had not been his intention to hurt him in any way.

"There was a problem with the computer—"

"I know. I got your message. I said don't worry about it," Jim snapped.

"Jim, I am trying to explain. The situation had the potential to become more serious if not dealt with in a timely manner."

"And of course _you_ are the only man for the job," Jim said bitingly.

Feeling flustered and defensive, Spock said, "I am the best man for the job."

Jim laughed, a sharp, bitter sound, and crossed his arms over his chest, though his voice softened when he spoke again, "Yes, I suppose you are."

Jim took another sip of his wine and stared down at the floor. Spock wanted so badly to touch him but Jim still looked tense and moody and Spock was not sure how to proceed.

"Please, do not be angry with me," he finally pleaded.

"I'm not angry. I just had all these ideas about how tonight would go and I'm a little disappointed. I'm sorry if I was short with you."

Jim's voice was somewhat strained but sincere, and Spock nearly shook with relief when Jim set down his wine glass and wrapped his arms around him. He was surprised by how deeply it had affected him to know that he had caused Jim distress. He had never felt so strongly about anyone in his life and the feeling was frightening.

He realized that he needed Jim's forgiveness, Jim's reassurance that the formidable feeling Spock had brewing inside him would not shatter his Vulcan soul. He knew that as long as Jim was there for him he would not break.

He needed Jim.

Spock kissed him gently and then buried his face in Jim's neck, greedily breathing in his scent. Jim smelled like sweat and wine and sunlight.

"I… love you," Spock whispered.

Jim pulled back, holding Spock at arms length, and smiled, glowing with affection. He ran a hand over Spock's cheek, fingers caressing. “I love you, too.”

Jim's thumb stroked Spock's bottom lip, and the hungry look that came into his eyes made Spock feel light-headed. Spock thought Jim would lean forward and kiss him, but then Jim stepped away, still smiling, and went to the table.

"Sit down, I'll make you a plate. I know you didn't take the time to eat something on the ship."

Spock obeyed, pulling out a chair and sitting down. Jim turned on the kitchen light and blew out the candle, then uncovered the dishes and began to scoop portions of food onto a plate. He reheated the food and set the plate in front of Spock, poured out another glass of wine, and then sat down across from him.

"Are you not going to eat as well?" Spock asked.

"Nah. I ate a little right before I opened the bottle of wine," he said with a sheepish grin.

Spock ate and listened attentively as Jim talked about the local attractions and planned out their activities for the next few days. Jim seemed determined to spend as much time as possible in the water, and he laughed outright at Spock's alarmed expression when he mentioning both parasailing and water skiing.

The activities humans considered to be recreation baffled him.

When he was done eating he helped Jim clear the table and store the leftover food in the small refrigerated compartment. He was setting their wine glasses in the sink when Jim came up behind him and snaked his arms around Spock's waist, kissing him on the back of his neck. Spock abandoned the dishes and turned in Jim's arms, pulling Jim closer by his shoulders and kissing him.

What started out tender quickly became rough and heated as pent up feelings were released, flowing between them through the searing touch of skin against skin. Teeth clashed against lips and fingers grabbed and pinched as they yanked at each others clothes, finally managing to divest themselves of their shirts.

Jim made a low growling sound and shoved Spock back into the counter, giving him a short, hard kiss, then he reached down to unfasten his pants. Jim let his pants slide down his legs and kicked them off, then tugged Spock's pants down as well, dropping to the ground to pull off his boots so he could slide them off. He stood to embrace Spock again and thrust his hips so hard that Spock slammed back against counter, rattling the silverware in the drawer behind him. Spock let his head fall back against the cupboard with a thud and groaned.

Running a hand over Jim's meld points in a brief caress, he felt some of Jim's earlier frustration and disappointment simmering just beneath the surface of his thoughts and impulsively sent a mental jolt into him that brought those feelings bursting forth. He wanted it purged, wanted to help Jim release that which would only fester if left alone.

Jim's hands tightened around Spock's arms and with a gasp he pulled back, staring at Spock with a fiery expression. His cheeks were flushed and his breathing hard, and Spock felt a sharp thrill go through him at the sight of his fierce human lover.

In a quick, determined movement Jim turned dragged Spock to the table, pushing him down on his stomach across the top of it. Spock started to push himself back up but then Jim leaned over his back, leaving a trail of soft kisses up his spine. Spock went limp, sucking in a sharp breath when one of Jim's hands tangled in his hair and the other skimmed lightly down his back, coming to rest on his hip.

The fingers on Spock's hip stroked gently for a moment and then hooked under the band of his underwear, slowly pulling them down.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Spock," Jim said, his voice throaty and dark.

Spock felt a twinge of apprehension, but Jim's hand was still gently stroking his skin and he felt something almost playful in the buzzing energy flowing into him.

"I am sorry," Spock said.

"Are you?"

The hand on Spock's hip suddenly lifted and came down with a crack on an exposed buttock. Spock jumped but Jim held him down, his hand stroking the stinging skin. When Jim lifted his hand again Spock was ready for it but his eyes still widened in shock when Jim's broad palm came down hard in another ringing slap, and then another.

No one had ever struck Spock in this manner and he was surprised to find that his arousal was becoming acute, and sharper still as Jim began to tenderly massage the abused flesh. He pushed back into Jim's hand, rasping out a needy "Jim!"

Jim released his grip on Spock's hair and clasped Spock's shoulder as he bent down to huskily say "Don't get up. I'll just be a minute."

Then the weight and warmth of Jim was gone and Spock pressed his cheek against the cool surface of the table, listening to the sounds of Jim's footsteps and then the sound of something creaking open and then snapping shut.

Spock sighed with relief when Jim returned and pulled him up, turning Spock so that he could sit on the edge of the table. Pressed between Spock's thighs, Jim held and kissed Spock fiercely, finally pulling away to open the lid on the little bottle in his hand. He liberally applied the lubricant and then eased Spock back down onto the table.

Jim pushed Spock's legs toward his chest and sank into him slowly, and Spock squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself stretched and filled.

Desire flowed between them, molten and volatile, and Jim began to move in him, building up a strong, steady rhythm. The table creaked beneath their bodies as Jim leaned forward to place a palm on the smooth surface, and rattled as Jim began thrust faster.

"Jim," Spock said, his voice rough.

"Yeah?" Jim panted.

"I have concerns about the—oh!—structural integrity of this table."

Jim barked out a laugh and leaned down to kiss Spock, "It'll be fine."

The table held, and Spock closed his eyes again, listening to the music of their breathing and letting the pleasure shoot through him as he angled his hips just so. When Jim began to make raspy panting noises Spock wrapped his legs around his waist, rising up on an elbow to pull Jim close so he could swallow up those sounds in a kiss.

Pulling back, Spock felt his heart stutter as he took in the sight of his lover thrusting into him. Jim's golden skin was glistening with sweat, his lips parted as he continued to make the noises that caused Spock's blood to burn with desire. Jim's muscles flexed with his vigorous movements, his blunt fingers gripping Spock's shoulder, then digging into Spock's hips, his thighs, grasping, needing.

They moved together, the world around them forgotten, time forgotten, and they built up their pleasure, their passion spiraling them upward.

When Spock felt Jim getting close he drove himself closer to the edge, and felt a deep satisfaction, a sense of completion, when they found their release together.

Jim collapsed onto him, murmuring endearments so quietly that only Vulcan ears could possibly have heard them. Spock was pleased to note that he felt only love and contentment seeping into him through Jim's touch, and when Jim finally lifted himself up his face was as serene as Spock had ever seen it.

Jim eased himself off of Spock and then helped him to his feet. He was still panting a little and Spock, worried that he might be dehydrated, found a glass and brought him some water. Jim gratefully took it, drinking deeply. When the glass was nearly empty he looked at Spock and sighed.

"Shower?" he asked, licking his lips.

"Yes, I think that would be the best course of action," Spock agreed.

Jim set the glass on the table. They both jumped back as it collapsed to the floor a moment later with a crack and a thunderous bang.

Wide eyed, Jim stared at Spock, and then burst into laughter. Spock tried not to look smug over the concern he had quite justifiably voiced earlier.

“Go on, you can say it,” Jim grinned, obviously waiting for the ‘I told you so‘.

His heart swelling with love, Spock could not find it in himself to give Jim the response he was expecting.

“I am very fortunate to have you in my life.” Spock offered two fingers, going on, “I am grateful for every breath of air that you breathe, and I will spend every day endeavoring to deserve you for as long as I am gifted with your presence.”

Speechless, Jim pressed two fingers to Spock’s in a Vulcan kiss, and then pulled him into an embrace.

****  


**6\. The Time Spock Turned The Tables**

 

Spock stalked toward his captain's quarters, focusing heavily on keeping his breathing even and his heartbeat steady. He clasped his hands behind his back so that no one would see the way they trembled and he formed his face into a perfect mask of non-emotion.

When Spock confronted him in sickbay Doctor McCoy had assured him that the captain's injuries had been minor and that there had been no reason not to release him. After hearing a more detailed report of what had happened Spock had thanked him curtly and left.

Something dark was brewing in Spock, and he carried it with him as he went to his captain, carefully smoothing out the ragged edges of his broken thoughts. He must be in control when he faced Jim. He must be calm. He must order his thoughts and subdue the rising swell of emotion.

All was well. Jim was alive.

When the M'ari had captured Spock, Jim, and Ensign Horah and accused them of defiling holy ground, Spock had known they would not walk away from the situation unscathed. The M'ari were a savage race and for the crime of sacrilege they demanded that one of the offending beings be offered up on the alter of their God, Uyal.

Spock had pleaded with Jim not to volunteer and had thrown himself forward instead, but when Jim saw that the M'ari might actually choose his first officer to be the sacrifice he had stormed up to the leader and spit at his feet. That had sealed it.

Spock and Ensign Horah had been released and Jim had been taken and tied to a stone slab in the middle of a small arena. Spock could see the _uskus_ , a hunch-backed, bear-like animal, pacing behind its bars as it waited to be released, its claws scraping impatiently at the ground. The M'ari considered the creature sacred, a physical manifestation of the God Uyal, but God or not Spock knew Jim would not last long against such a creature, even if he somehow managed to get free of his bonds.

The M'ari had stripped them of everything they carried, so Spock had run, the frightened ensign at his heels, desperate to find the rest of the landing party so that they could contact the ship. His logic had told him that Jim would not survive, and he had struggled to process and accept that even as he ran. His brain had reluctantly accepted that Jim was lost to him, though he hadn’t slowed his pace.

It had been close.

According to what McCoy told him Jim did manage to get free and had put up a good fight, fending off the uskus while the M'ari worked themselves up into a righteous fury. After being beamed aboard the _Enterprise_ he had collapsed into a bloody, gasping heap.

Spock had wanted to go to Jim in sickbay but with the captain wounded, his responsibilities fell to Spock, and Spock would not shirk his duties. Not even when the terrible ache growing in him began to make him dizzy. Spock saw to the retrieval of the items the M’ari had taken from them and it was only after he had attended to all of the pressing matters related to the running of the ship that he went to sickbay to check on Jim.

It was when Spock left sickbay following his talk with McCoy that everything caught up with him. He was not even sure what exactly he meant to say to Jim, he only knew that he must see him.

Jim granted Spock entrance immediately, as if he had been waiting for him. If he had been waiting, though, he gave no sign of it, sitting behind his desk and absently shifting through the clutter of PADDs and microtapes in front of him.

"Spock," Jim had acknowledged. Then, looking down at his desk, he mumbled, "I don't know how it got so messy."

Spock stood at attention just inside the door, the darkness in him expanding and plunging his thoughts into shadow. Jim, glancing up, must have seen some hint of it in Spock's eyes because his hands faltered and he sat up straighter, quietly assessing Spock.

"I know you're not happy about what happened down there," he finally said. He stood up and stretched, rolling his head and rubbing at his shoulder.

The shoulder wound had been the worst of Jim's injuries. The creature had obviously been going for his throat. Spock shuddered internally but remained still, drinking up the sight of Jim standing so near him, alive and well. Still, the darkness clouded his vision and he blinked, as if to clear it.

"But I have a responsibility to my crew, and that includes you. I couldn't stand by and let either of you be sacrificed," Jim went on, looking concerned but confident.

Jim truly believed that he had done the right thing, that Spock should have stood by helplessly watching the man who was both his captain and lover be torn to pieces. Spock felt the darkness coil into something sharp, poised to lash out at the man in front of him. He knew he should turn around and leave, that he required meditation to repair his crumbling control, but he could not move.

"Spock," Jim said, sounding almost impatient. “Look, I’m sorry if—”

Spock moved before he even knew he was moving, hands shooting out and catching Jim by the shoulders to yank him forward into a tight embrace. The tension in him snapped, the darkness spilling out of him and revealing its nature.

Fear. Illogical, all-consuming fear.

He could not bear the thought of losing Jim. Spock wanted him, more of him, all of him, for always. He wanted to bond with him, to have Jim always cradled in his thoughts, a pure, golden presence to light up every corner of his Vulcan soul.

Spock's desire raged in him, a desire to possess Jim, to bind Jim to him, and he held him tighter. Spock pulled at him, digging in and squeezing, and Jim gasped as his shirt tore beneath those unyielding fingers.

"Spock, stop!" Jim commanded breathlessly.

"No," Spock whispered, shoulders hunching as he bent into Jim, burying his face in the human's warm neck. "No."

Spock inhaled, disappointed to find that Jim had recently showered, washing away the salty, musky smell that always made heat curl low in his belly. He wanted it, the smell of Jim's exertion, the heady perfume of his lust, and he would have it, soon. He tried to speak his need into Jim's skin but only a dry sob came out.

Jim's hands stroked soothingly over Spock's back, "Please don't. God, I'm so sorry." He shook Spock, becoming frantic when he made that same gut-wrenching sound again. "Spock, please. What do you need? Tell me what you need."

Spock slowly calmed the storm in his mind, searching for his voice, "I need..."

"Tell me. What?"

"You."

It really was that simple. He had always been content to let Jim take control of their lovemaking, enjoying the way Jim skillfully pulled pleasure from him, always guiding him and releasing him from his Vulcan inhibition, but that was not what he wanted now.

"I'm yours," Jim said.

That was all he needed. With a low growl rumbling in his chest he lifted his head and plundered Jim's mouth in a greedy kiss. His tongue explored, pushing past Jim's lips to taste his lover deeply. He caught Jim's bottom lip in his teeth and held it for a moment before pulling back and holding Jim away from him.

He wanted more of Jim's skin and so he roughly pulled Jim's shirt off, ripping the fabric further in his carelessness.

"Hey," Jim said in surprise, though he made no other comment as Spock continued to strip him.

When Jim was naked Spock walked him toward the bed, though he stopped before they reached it, kissing his way down Jim's body. Jim gasped when Spock brought him to full arousal with his mouth, then, threading his fingers through the dark hair, Jim tugged Spock's head back so they could look at each other.

"Take your clothes off," came Jim's voice, the voice of the brash, confident starship captain Spock had come to love.

He had always enjoyed it when Jim took him by the hair, the way it was so easy to give up control to this man he trusted so absolutely, but this time would be different. Spock felt the need to hold him, dominate him, claim him. He wanted Jim trapped in his protective embrace, safe, for a time, from the dangers they too often faced.

"No," Spock said, pulling Jim down to him. Jim came willingly, silent and almost wide-eyed as though he was captivated by Spock's behavior.

Spock cupped Jim's cheeks in his hands and kissed him, tenderly this time, and then, in an abrupt movement that startled Jim, turned him around and pressed his upper body down onto the bed. With his knees on the floor and Spock's arm heavy across his shoulders, he was effectively pinned to the bed. Jim couldn't move, and Spock sensed him battling with his assertive nature as he leaned over Jim's naked back.

"You must not do that. You must not ever sacrifice yourself for me," Spock said, his breath remarkably even given his highly aroused state.

"Spock, I'm sorry that my actions hurt you, but I did what I had to do," Jim said, turning his head to the side and trying to look back at Spock.

Spock pushed him more firmly into the mattress. "That is not the correct response."

Frustration flared in Spock. He knew that Jim would make the same choice every time and there was nothing he could do about it. His beautiful, tenacious, hot-tempered human would always be willing to sacrifice himself to save others. With a heavy sense of defeat, Spock laid his head on Jim's back and stroked down his side with his free hand.

As his fingers trailed lower something sparked in him, the memory of a punishing hand and stinging skin, and Spock moaned softly against Jim. Jim moved under him, murmuring his name, and Spock felt his possessive impulse grow.

His need made him daring. He let his hand drift over Jim's taut buttocks, waiting until Jim started to relax into his touch, and then he raised his hand and brought it down hard against the vulnerable flesh. Jim jumped.

"Spock! What—"

Before Jim could finish Spock brought his hand down again, the loud smack surprisingly pleasing to his ears.

"Let me go!" Jim commanded.

Jim struggled under him, and then turned around as far as he could to glare at Spock. His eyes were blazing with anger and wounded pride, and Spock felt himself hesitate under the impulse to serve and obey his captain.

But then his gaze drifted to the place where his hand had struck, and he sucked in a deep breath as he beheld the beautifully golden skin turning an enticing pink. Blood now burning, he struck again with a crack that made Jim yelp, and then again, and again. Jim squirmed beneath his arm and cursed loudly as the slaps landed on his throbbing backside.

Spock stopped, cocking his head at the seething human, and said "Such language."

He ran his fingers over Jim's reddened skin, marveling at the heat it radiated. Jim moaned at the suddenly soft touch and Spock realized the human was aroused, his hips faintly thrusting in a bid for friction. Spock reached around Jim and was pleased to find him fully erect, and stroked him with teasingly gentle fingers.

"Oh, god," Jim moaned, then he whined when Spock's hand pulled away and drifted back to his buttocks.

Spock gave the raw skin a rough squeeze that made Jim hiss, and then unfastened his pants and pulled his own erection free. He leaned forward, pushing it against Jim's backside, and kissed the freshly healed skin of Jim's shoulder.

"You belong to me," he said.

"Yes," Jim eagerly agreed. He had ceased all movement, surrendering himself to Spock as he had never done before.

When Spock removed the arm that had been pinning Jim down and turned him enough to look in his eyes he saw nothing but unshakeable trust and burning desire. He laid his cheek against Jim's, soaking up the soothing warmth

"I would bond with you," Spock said, his voice earnest and raw, "if you would have me."

Spock went still when Jim did not answer, but, letting his fingers read the thoughts that fluttered on the surface of Jim's mind, he understood that Jim's love matched his own, his need just as great.

Jim was completely his, and had been for some time. Perhaps he always had been.

Spock's joy filled him, springing up from somewhere deep down and blinding him with it's brilliance. For a moment he knew nothing but its light and when he became aware again he had pulled Jim onto the bed and had laid himself on top of him, hand in the meld position, ready to take full possession of his chosen mate.

The urge to do it, to plunge into that inviting mind with force and claim it for himself, was strong, but he bent his head to Jim and whispered against his lips "Let me..."

"Do it. Please," Jim said.

Jim's arms went around him and then Spock was in Jim's mind and Jim in his. They came together in a crash of color, their memories roaring by as Spock led them with intent toward the deepest part of their combined being. He did not have to search it out but went on instinct, and together they moved, formless and immense, toward something new and yet familiar.

There was a spark between them, and then, like a thread of white fire, the bond sprang to life between them. Spock felt what Jim felt and saw what he saw, saw his own face aglow with rapture, felt the cool, smooth texture of his own skin through Jim's fingertips.

He felt Jim reach and find the little bottle, felt the slickness on Jim's hand and on himself as Jim made them ready. Then, before he even knew what he was doing, Spock broke the meld, though their minds remained tightly connected, and flipped Jim over onto his hands and knees. He pulled Jim’s hips back and penetrated him, joining their bodies with the same unrestrained passion that had driven their bonding.

Jim soon collapsed beneath him, burying his face in the blanket to smother his whimpering cries, and Spock followed him down to grind him into the mattress. Their minds were still deeply connected through touch and through the newborn bond, and Spock felt himself being whipped into a frenzy by the utter abandon of Jim‘s animalistic hunger. The human was arching up into him and clawing desperately at the bed beneath him, driven half-mad by their shared pleasure.

Spock was intoxicated by the helpless noises pouring forth from Jim and by the heady aroma of his sweat, and he mentally drew Jim nearer until he was gazing through the human’s eyes.

He felt his own weight atop Jim as an unstoppable force that had trapped and conquered him, and the pressure of Spock filling him and pounding into him, setting every inch of his skin on fire with lust. Spock felt himself taking and being taken, and knew that Jim felt the same, their minds intertwining so completely that they both felt certain nothing in the universe could ever tear them apart.

They came together, reality splintering in a blast of ecstasy, their minds finally sliding apart but remaining connected by a shimmering thread.

Spock rolled them onto their sides, turning Jim so that they faced each other, and then held the limp body to his. He became alarmed some minutes later when he realized that Jim's body was shaking and his eyes were pinched shut.

"Jim, are you injured?" Spock asked, panic rising.

Jim chuckled, "No, I'm not hurt."

Spock realized his body had gone tense and forced his muscles to relax, humming contently when he felt an upsurge of affection through the bond.

"It was just... intense," Jim explained.

Spock felt experimentally along the bond and Jim curled into him, letting out a throaty laugh.

"That's amazing. I can still feel you in my head," he said in wonder. "Will it always be like this?"

"When we meld, yes, but my presence will fade somewhat when we are not in physical contact with each other. I will teach you how to shield so that you do not find it distracting," Spock said.

"Hmm. I like it, but I guess you're right. It might prove distracting when I'm on the bridge," Jim admitted.

He sighed happily and leaned into Spock, his hand lazily stroking Spock's back. Jim was silent for a while, but Spock could feel the whirring of his thoughts. His lips curled faintly in a smile as he waited for Jim to speak.

"So, you belong to me now. You're mine," Jim finally said.

"Yes, and you are mine," Spock said, holding him tighter.

"For the rest of our lives."

"Yes."

"Good."

****  



End file.
